Fallout 3: Closure
by GamerJay
Summary: When the unthinkable happens, what can you do to forgive yourself? The Lone Wanderer's idea of closure will lead to one of two things: Salvation...or self-destruction. COMPLETE!
1. 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3. It is property of Bethesda Softworks.**

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_Boys and girls of the Capital Wasteland, a hearty good morning to all ya'll survivors and survivorettes. This is Three Dog and you're just waking up to Galaxy News Radio, the ONLY radio station that doesn't give you feelings of ominous doom._

_Just looking on the counter on the far side of the studio wall here…it looks like it's been thirty days, twelve hours, thirty-four minutes and 25 seconds since the last of President Eden's neo-fascist footsoldiers decided to make our lives slightly more unbearable._

_Has the devil-heads taken the hint and decided to just take their crap elsewhere? Has our friends of the Brotherhood of Steel finally put a high-velocity round through their power-armour heads? Or had our Buddha-with-a-Boomstick Lone Wanderer finally wiped out the last of them back at that Air Force base out of town? Your guess is as good as mine kids…but whatever happens, I just hope I don't have to reset counter on my wall._

_But if it does, rest assure kids…I'm sure the Messiah-with-a-Missile Launcher will once again put the fascists six feet under where they belong. Speaking of which, wonder what One-Oh-One doin' nowadays? Last I heard he had just returned from out of state and was last seen outside Megaton?_

_A little R' n R', eh One-Oh-One. Heh, hope you enjoy it kid, wherever you went I hope you managed to make the world outside our own slice of hell a much better place…_

"Hate to disappoint you Three Dog, but I don't think I did anything right this time!"

Marcus switched off his bedside radio before turning on his side, lying on his filthy mattress in his Megaton 'home' and trying to get back to sleep. Dogmeat was sound asleep beside the bed and downstairs Watson was busy cleaning the blood and muck off the pieces of T-51B Power Armour scattered all over the ground following his latest venture in the Capital Wasteland.

The Lone Wanderer looked like death when he had finally returned from The Pitt just a week ago, having helped overthrow Ismael Ashur and completely destroying the raiders infesting that hell on earth at the behest of the slaves. Only one thing though: all this left baby Marie, the healthiest infant on the planet, an orphan.

Though Wernher gave his word that Marie would be taken cared off courtesy of Midea who would continue Ashur's wife Sandra Kundanika's research into developing a cure for the plague that infected most, if not all, of the Pitt's denizens, Marcus had left the Pitt feeling guilty as hell. How was he supposed to know that the 'cure' was a living, breathing soul? That her parents, despite being raiders and slavers, had been quite possibly the most loving people on the planet? Saints despite being sinners, perhaps?

But as he had stood in the nursery/laboratory in Ashur's Fortress with Ashur's scientist wife's trusting back to him, he had made up his mind almost right away: The slaves must be freed, whatever the cost. Hell, he had single-handedly destroyed Paradise Falls, the Capital Wasteland's central for slavers and the source of human flesh for the Pitt, so he might as well have finished the job right there and then.

Wernher and Midea's attitude once he had handed Marie over to them were hardly comforting. Marcus had immediately begun to worry about the infant girl's future, especially with Wernher mentioning cutting corners when it comes to the research, and the enhancement he was given as a result of Midea's suspiciously near-instantaneous breakthrough in research.

"Dogmeat?"

The canine's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at his wild red-haired, green-eyed, hispanic master. He smiled slightly down at his closest companion.

"I did do the right thing, right boy?" Marcus asked him. "Everything worked out in the end? Marie will be taken cared off and will finally free the slaves when they find the cure?"

Though Dogmeat was the smartest dog in all the wasteland, the whole world even, he had no answer to that. He just looked back at his master questioningly.

"Aroo?"

"Heh, I forgot…you didn't tag along for _that_ adventure." Marcus looked back up a the ceiling. "Sorry boy."

Dogmeat sounded bitter when he barked at him.

"Yeah, sorry. Tell you what…"

He sighed as he sat up on his bed, putting his feet firmly on the ground.

"You can come along with me this time. I'm heading back there today."

He stretched his arms upwards, hearing the bones creak as he worked out he kink.

"I got a locker full of teddy bears and I think Marie will enjoy making new friends."

He stepped out of his bedroom and walked down the stairs, Dogmeat in tow.

"Ah…good morning, sir!" Watson the Mr. Handy robo-butler greeted him in the usual enthusiastic manner. "You'll be happy to know your T-51B Power Armour has been washed and polished…all spick and speck."

Marcus shook his head. "Not this time, Watson. Just the Combat Armour, the point forty-four and the Suppressor for today."

"Travelling a little lighter then usual if I must say so, sir?"

He shrugged as he put Reilly's Combat Armour on, holstered the .44 Magnum and slinging the scoped assault rifle 'Suppressor' over his shoulder. "Just paying some friends a visit."

"And which friends would that be?" Watson said, tracing Marcus's movements as he walked over to fridge and quickly ate a whole box of Salisbury Steak. "If I know someone of your stature you must have friends all over this great state of ours."

"Some friends out of town."

"Oh, well…" Watson saw him walk over to the locker closest to the door and pull out a brown-coloured teddy bear with a red bow around his neck, "I'm sure they'll enjoy your company, seeing as how you've possibly made their lives a lot more bearable in this unbearable world. Your reputation always precedes you, good sir."

Marcus paused as he reached for the doorhandle leading out of his house. Dogmeat looked up at him worriedly, and when he didn't move for half-a-minute he pawed at the Lone Wanderer's left leg.

"Sir?" Watson expressed his concern. "Are you alright, sir?"

Marcus snapped out his daze and exhaled, "Yeah, fine. See you later, Watson."

"Hope you have a nice day sir."

"I'll try to."

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_You know boys and girls; I wonder what goes through One-Oh-One's head when he does the things he does. You know: Helping people, killing Super Mutants and Radscorpions, giving hobos free bottles of water. Know what I think? A big sense of satisfaction for contributing to the Good Fight, and acting the Messiah we know he is._

_Sheriff Lucas Simms yawned and adjusted the hat on his head as he stepped out of his home, his assault rifle slung over his shoulder and ready to be in his hands the moment someone in eyeshot stepped out of line. He noticed a familiar mop of wild red hair and smirked._

"Good morning, Marcus," Lucas waved at him. "Goin' out to make sure the radio keeps talking about you?"

Marcus gave a weak smile as he walked past him. "Hopefully not. Just visiting some friends."

"Which ones?"

"Out of town. Don't wait up, Sheriff."

Lucas watched him disappear past the large doors leading into Megaton with a slight grimace. Ever since his father died a couple of months ago and he fell in with the Brotherhood of Steel he had become withdrawn. He had always being around to lend a handle; providing scrap for the water plant for instance, but this time since last week he had become more apathetic and uncaring of anyone around him. Lucas guessed that it had to do with him leaving the Capital Wasteland for a bit.

He watched the doors closed behind the Wanderer, hand on his head to keep his hat from flying off his head as a gust of wind blew right past him.

'After everything that boy's gone through I wouldn't be surprised if he started to not care.' Lucas thought. 'Goddamn radio station, making him out to be some sort of hero. No one ever needs that kind of pressure.'

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_If you don't mind me sayin': I just happen to be One-Oh-One's closest buddy, some one he can depend on and trust to spread word of good deeds far and wide to poor, needy shmucks like you. If you've met him, consider yourself blessed by God, Buddha or whatever deity exists in his hell we trudge through every day. Because you've me the most upstanding guy and you can be goddamn guaranteed you'd never meet another cat like him._

"FUCK! FUCK! OH FUCK ME! MY ARM…YOU BLEW OFF MY GODDAMN ARM!"

"Shut up, asshole." Marcus yelled over at him as he tinkered away at the Caucasian man's neckcollar, "Yeah, there you go!"

The collar fell to the ground some feet away from the slaver lying on the ground, the blood pooling around where his left arm used to be, the limb some more feet away from him. The metal armoured slaver of Asian descent screamed out obscenities at the Lone Wanderer as he removed the collars off his latest haul – all six of them, including two children, one a boy and one a girl.

Why he had been rounding up wastelanders to be sold off as human cattle was lost to Marcus. Paradise Falls was fall of holes and there were no other slaver dens anywhere in the Capital Wasteland that he knew of. And if there was he would find it out and destroy it.

After removing the last of the collars the would-be slaves ran off after giving their thanks to the fabled Lone Wanderer, immediately sharing a bottle of clean, clear aqua pura between them. The slaver stared up at Marcus, hatred and pain in his eyes simultaneous.

"Those…meat…" the slaver blurted out, "…were gonna feed my family tonight."

Marcus smirked and gave a sideward glance at his latest kill and discarded his rifle's empty clip, "Sucks to be you then. Been to Paradise Falls lately? All those bodies lying around the place, eh? Thought that would make you dickheads consider your choice of career!"

The slaver's eyes widened with realisation.

"That…that was YOU?"

"Yeah," Marcus continued to smile as he walked over to him, "Emancipation-Declaration-Ain't-So-Complication, heh heh."

The slaver gritted his teeth. "Why you dirty bread-stealing…"

It wouldn't have been possible for him to feel anything just before he died, seeing as how Marcus splattered his head into a dozen pieces like a melon courtesy of a precise magnum shot to the forehead. The Wanderer's smile from his face, him standing there alone with the slaver's corpse along just half-a-mile away from the train tunnel that would take him to the Pitt.

He checked his PIP BOY 3000 built in clock: 18:00. Just a few more hours of sunlight left.

'Time to keep moving.'

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_Everyday I wonder where One-Oh-One went off to, those few hours his PIP BOY wasn't tuned in to you yours truly and his wonderful, godlike voice? I bet wherever the kid went he made sure that when he left, life there would be a little bit more bearable._

_How do I know that kid, children? Because this is the Lone Wanderer I'm being talking about, and will keep talkin' about so long he continue to walk the Capital Wasteland, dedicated to bringing hope to all you children braving this world one day at a tim. Not to mention bringing hell to you assholes who try to fuck with the progression of humanity._

_And now, some music…_

Marcus stepped out of the tunnel, which would lead him beneath the brownish sky that hovered above the industrial nightmare place known as the Pitt. He exchanged the mostly fresh air of the Capital Wasteland for the diseased smog that the denizens unfortunately breathe hair. He had a feeling that no one here was rushing to improve the air quality here and he could understand.

However he would never understand if anyone would want to hurt Marie, but he would like to understand if anyone did. That would give him a good reason to blow his head off.

The Lone Wanderer quietly traversed through the railyard leading up to the bridge, his scoped assault rifle in his hands and his finger tracing the trigger. His eyes darted left and right as he kept alert and didn't drop for a second, even after he reached the main bridge and noticing the slave sentries with sniper rifles at the top, covering the entire area. He was glad to see that the bridge was mostly cleared; with most of the junk, mines and toxic barrels cleared, leaving a mostly clear pathway into the Pitt.

He noticed one of the sentries waving at him so he waved back and smiled, not caring if he saw it or not. He didn't plan on staying for long, only to see if Marie was ok and that Wernher made good on his promise. Maybe then he would start to believe what the radio made him out to be.

To his surprise he found the cycloptic Wernher already waiting for him, leaning outside the main gate with his arms crossed and a cigarette dangling in his mouth. The rebel leader smirked when Marcus appeared closer to the gates.

"Well, look whose back." Wernher waved at him, leaning off the gate and walking to him, hands on his hips, "Didn't think you'd ever return. You looked _that_ guilty when you left after offing Ashur, his bitch of a wife and every one of those pricks Uptown."

Wernher remaining good eye widened slightly when Dogmeat growled at him, the canine not liking his attitude one bit. Marcus looked down at his companion and patted his head, calming him down. He then looked back at him appearing apologetic.

"Your mutt ain't gonna be a problem around the workers, right Sam?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nope. Now where's Marie?"

"Who?"

The Wanderer looked at him, his eyes narrowed, "Marie. The baby. Ashur's daughter."

"Oh!" Wernhur looked at if he had just remembered something important. "The one thing that will free the slaves."

"Yeah." Marcus smiled out a teddy bear from his pac., "I got a pressie for her. Midea mentioned she likes teddies and she's lucky I live close to a teddy factory."

Wernhur downcast his left eye and uttered a curse.

Marcus narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"Uhhhhh…yeah…" Wernhur took a puff out of his cigarette then flicked it away. "I don't think she'll be need those stuffed pieces of crap any more."

The Wanderer was taken back and Dogmeat whined and drooped his ears, as if he knew what Wernher was about to say and started to feel depressed.

"Wha…what the fuck are you saying?"

"Marie's dead. _That's_ what the fuck I'm saying, kid."

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So what do you think?

Regarding Three Dog, I tried to emulate his style of broadcasting as best I could, so if you comment you might want to tell me how I did. I appreciate that.

- GamerJay


	2. 2

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

A/N: Thanks for your reviews. I knew submitting material for a new category wasn't that daunting.

You know I've been thinking…

Imagine: before The Pitt almost every mission in Fallout 3 has either good, neutral or evil ways to complete it, no grey area whatsoever; but when it comes to Pittsburg and the possible outcome it no doubt left us all a bit guilty/annoyed afterwards.

But for Marcus and possibly any other Good-aligned player character in the Fallout universe, this is just something he/they can't possibly comprehend or accept.

Anyway, enjoy reading Chapter 2… : )

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"Wh…what?"

"I hate repeating myself, kid," Wernher frowned. "But I'll have to make an exception for you since we're buds..."

Marcus couldn't hear Wernher speak as he just stood there in shock, his mouth agape and his eyes wide, which were quivering in their sockets and beginning to feel irritated. His mind went blank as he watched Wernher mouth away the words, the Wanderer tuning out his voice with sounds of his own rapid heartbeat and breathing.

"…did you catch that, kid?"

Dogmeat looked up at his master worriedly, still whimpering. Marcus still stood there, frozen in place.

"Hey, kid? Kid? HEY…!"

Wernher growled and reached for him, but stepped back with his hands stretched forward when Dogmeat barked at him. Marcus shook his head and regained his senses, eyes darting between the canine and the one-eyed man. The gates opened and out stepped two slave guards carrying hunting rifles and rushing to Wernher's back.

"Goddamn mutt!" Wernher cursed. "Snap outta ya' fucking stupor and control your…"

"How?"

Dogmeat calmed down when Marcus spoke again, barking lightly at him. Wernher gestured to his guards and they backed off.

Stung, Wernher growled again, "The hell you said, Marcus?"

Eyes tense and filled with emotion, he found himself blinking uncontrollably when he said, "How did…Marie die?"

Wernher shrugged and snorted, "Dunno! Guess Midea couldn't handle not sleeping for nearly a week with that brat screaming away non-stop and slipped up somewhere…"

He noticed Marcus looking tense. He glanced down at his legs and noticed him shaking a bit.

"Look, Midea managed to work most of the kinks in that cure in case you're worried if we actually got somewhere with that little sprout. We just need to find some poor bastard to test it on."

"When?"

"Huh?"

"When did she die?"

Visibly becoming bored as well as irritated, Wernher responded coldly. "Last night. God, was I happy when the little shit finally stopped screaming and let us catch some shut ey…"

"I want to see her."

Wernher looked at him and saw how he gritted his teeth and blink uncontrollably.

"Mind repeating that?"

He was once again startled when Marcus suddenly got up in his face and angrily shouted…

"I WANNA SEE HER!"

He then received a left hook to the face that sent him staggering back, hand over his face and the fresh bruise on his left cheek. Wernher looked at him with a smile, the guards now pointing their guns at the Wanderer and Dogmeat, who once again bared his teeth and growled at the armed slaves.

"Watch your tone Marcus. You ain't a slave any more, but that don't mean you can just mouth to anyone," Wernher said as he crossed his arms. "Behave and I'll let you have a go at Midea. The stupid bitch thought she could juggle a baby and her test tubes; never thought she'd break one or the either."

Marcus was still angry when he hissed. "Marie?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Midea thumbed the gate behind him, "Dry your eyes, pissant. I'll take to your precious little Marie. Don't know why you're so concerned about the little screamer."

The Wanderer followed after Wernher as he led him through the gate; guns now trained on him from the guards overlooking the street from the building windows. Wernher didn't mind that Marcus was giving him dirty looks from behind his back, and if he could read his mind he wouldn't mind what he thought either.

What Marcus thought was, 'That's because I'm not as cold as you, bastard."

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"Hey Midea! You got yourself a visitor."

Marcus was unmoved by the woman's sobs as he stepped into Midea's quarters, the door closing after him. He was disgusted at the sight of her hunched over her desk, remembering how she got up at him for expressing his concern for Marie and how he had been angry that she and Wernher hadn't told him what the cure was when he stole _it_…_her_. Her head wrap was missing, revealing jet-black hair that flowed down to the small of her back.

The Wanderer's heavy footsteps as he stepped forward alerted Midea. She looked over his shoulder, revealing her teary face as she expected someone familiar to be seeing her, but seeing that it was Marcus she gasped and got up from her seat, knocking it down and some of her equipment as she backed against her desk.

"You! You're back!"

"Me. I'm back." Marcus nodded. "I came to see Marie."

"M…Marie?" Midea sniffed as she wiped her face, trying to regain her composure. "Why?"

She stretched her hands forward to catch something that Marcus tossed her way. Her eyes widened when she realised she was holding a teddy bear. She looked back up to see the Wanderer, visibly upset himself.

"I…wasn't going to ask for payment, either," Marcus said, saddened. "I just wanted to know if she was safe."

That display of sadness was brief, however, and he immediately looked at the woman scornfully.

"I took your word for it. Out of every other slave in this pit I trusted you slightly more than anyone else here," Marcus stated. "Probably because you were the only decently dressed woman in Downtown I trusted you to take care of a child."

Midea shamefully hung her head, "I…I didn't mean to…hurt her. I just…I just wanted to find the cure…I just wanted this nightmare to end. Wernher kept pushing me to make at least a little progress with Marie. He kept going on about how useless me and the baby was and how we were holding him back…"

Marcus turned away from her she went on, closing his eyes shut put his hand over his mouth, exhaling exasperatingly into his left palm as he leaned his forehead and right against the wall. His eyes opened suddenly when Midea raised her voice at him.

"You can't talk to me like that. About trust, about responsibility! What gives you the right to judge me?" she cried at him, the way she spoke to him like she had suddenly came to a realisation. "That week ago you just came waltzing into the Pitt, strutting around half-naked all confident and playing the goddamn hero…."

The Wanderer turned around to face her, stunned, "What are you…?"

She hissed at him, eyes narrowed in anger, "You saying that there is something wrong with me, wrong with everyone here, all because of the death of one baby. We're slowly dying and we had to risk everything, trying to find the cure…"

Marcus let his emotions go. He snarled, swung his left hand and slapped her across the face…

"MMMPH!"

…and sending her falling onto her desk, smashing and sending her equipment falling onto the floor. Frightened by Marcus' violent outburst she dared not make a sound. She slowly and painfully push herself off her desk, turned around and saw Marcus standing there in front of her. His hands clenched into fists and unclenched. The twitch in the corner of his left eye becoming more noticeable each second.

They heard Dogmeat bark angrily outside followed by violent cursing. Midea looked away from Marcus and hopefully at the door, wishing that Wernher would step in and put a stop to this, preferably with a bullet to the Wanderer's head.

"Tell me where she is."

Midea's eyes widened as she raised a hand to her mouth in shock.

"What?"

"Tell…Me…Where…She…Is!" Marcus reiterated slowly, emphasising each word. "Where is her body?"

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Marcus slammed the door into Midea's quarters shut after he was done with her, Dogmeat and Wernher waiting for him.

"You blow off some steam, kid?" Wernher asked him smirkingly, "The bitch deserved it, screwing up like that."

He stared at Wernher momentarily, then looked down at Dogmeat who sat there before him, looking up at Marcus miserably. The canine then whined; and Marcus looked ashamed.

"Yeah, sorry about that boy," Marcus said. "Never thought I'd ever punch a woman."

"Like I just said: The bitch deserved it," Wernher repeated. "If this cure she developed doesn't work on it's first try, it's gonna take another long time to work out the bugs without that little shit factory's heart beating."

Wernher then saw Marcus walk off, followed by Dogmeat.

"Where're you off to now?"

"Grabbing something to eat," Marcus called back. "I'll risk losing my hair from eating that radioactive shit."

"Heh, aren't you brave," Wernher shouted back at him. He then muttered, "You naive overemotional prick."

Upon silently referring to the Wanderer as such, he came to a startling realisation…

"Son of a bitch!"

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All that Marcus noticed from the ex-slaves he passed by on the way to the scrapyard were tired, embittered looks as they went about their business – sitting around waiting for something to happen in their dull, pointless life or continuing their work prior to Ashur's death and Uptown's demolishment. To put it simply: Nothing has changed since a week ago.

Especially in the foundry area where beyond it was the scrapyard, things went about like they had been when he had first stepped foot as a slave himself a week ago. 'Former' slaves still worked tiredly at the smelts and presses and other 'slaves' walked past carrying scoped assault rifles.

'It's official I didn't do shit,' Marcus thought. 'God…what if I had helped Ashur instead? At least he seemed certain Sandra would have found the trog cure.'

He then shuddered.

'I hate those things.'

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His .44 drawn, Marcus closed the metal door behind him, immediately setting his sights on Wernher's shack up ahead, past the whole heap of already dead Trog laying scattered at his feet and down the ramp leading to the dead earth. He made his way across the scrapyard towards the shack, walking along the route he had burnt into his mind towards his destination.

Soon he was right in front of the shack door, when suddenly…

"KILLLLLLLLLLL YOU!"

He was jumped by a trog from up top of the shack, knocking him down the stairs and landing roughly on his back, bruising himself. The former human tried to go for the Wanderer's neck with its' elongated hands/claws, but didn't count on Marcus suddenly kicking it in the chest and off of him. And it certainly didn't count on Marcus shouting out loud and diving for it, grabbing it by the throat and shoving his .44 into it's mouth.

It did count on, however, Marcus pulling the trigger once he fed it the barrel of his gun. After that, everything went black as it's miserable life was snuffed out.

Marcus then stood up and quietly observed his latest kill, then wiped the blood of his face with the back of his. He then opened the shack door and stepped inside, slamming it behind him.

He traversed up the staircase to where the lab equipment had been set up, reaching for the fridge and the freezer compartment. The Wanderer fought back his breakfast threatening to come back up at the thought of a child's dead body carelessly and cruelly shoved into the freezer in order to preserve it for further research…according to Midea.

Marcus felt nothing but contempt for her and Wernher, making him feel guilty for handing Marie over to them in the first place after killing her natural parents. He knew for sure that _they_ would never have allowed this to happen if _they_ had continued the research in finding the cure.

Exhaling bitterly, he opened the refrigerator and reached for the freezer handle…

----------

Wernher lit up another cancer stick as he leaned the table in the office prior to the scrapyard, his own .44 Magnum lying flat on the table near his hip. He frowned deeply and hoped that the Wanderer wasn't still as stupid as he had been when he had agreed to help him in the first place. To him if Marcus had a lick of sense then he wouldn't attempt to leave the Pitt with Marie's body, not when is still chance of salvaging her precious, untainted (and dead) flesh in the future should the need arise for more than just a 'cure.'

He didn't know how that was going to work, but he was going to make sure that Midea finds out.

"Ah!" Wernher exclaimed as Marcus stepped into the office from the caged walkways leading to the scrapyard. "Been busy? Found any more metal a dozen men did not die scrounging through?"

Marcus was pensive as he held a cold, blanketed bundle delicately in his arms, Dogmeat by his side and baring his teeth defensively.

"I'm leaving. You won't have to deal with me any more."

"Yeah sure, whatever," Wernher said. "Leave and don't ever fucking one more foot in _my_ city…"

Marcus chuckled and walked past Wernher, "_Your_ city?"

Wernher reached for edge of his armour and gripped it hard, immobilising him. "AFTER you put that frozen piece of meat down on the floor, throw down you weapons real slow and…"

The Wanderer then spun around and head-butted Wernher in the forehead and knocked him down onto the ground.

"AHH! YOU SONOVA…"

Marcus gritted his teeth and kicked him upside the head, rendering him unconscious. He was annoyed that his hands were full so he couldn't have punched him across the face and spare himself a headache. He quickly shrugged that off and left the room and the unconscious Wernher behind. He then made his way through the foundry, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible though he was carrying a bundle that _anyone_ could see, though wouldn't be able to make out if it was a baby unless they were up close.

Luckily that wasn't the case and managed to slip out, the busy former slaves wasting away at the smelts none the wiser. Marcus noticed how things were no different here either.

'I changed _nothing_,' he thought, 'The first time since I got out of the Vault, I didn't do _anything_ right.'

----------

Her cheek still stinging from earlier, Midea made her way past the other slaves towards the foundry area intent on stopping Marcus from leaving the Pitt with the cold, dead infant cradled in his arms. To her it wasn't right that he judge her and everyone else here and simply leave with something they sacrificed heavily to obtain, even though it was now dead and she had no idea how to continue research into the trog cure with a corpse.

Midea slapped her own forehead and wondered out loud why she was thinking and behaving so coldly.

"What is wrong with me?" she said to herself. "Marie was just a baby…and I killed her."

She noticed out the corner of her eye Marcus disappearing down the alleyway away from the foundry entrance towards the exit. She ran to catch up to him, but froze around the corner as a slave guard stopped and questioned Marcus just before he could step through the next door.

"Oi…thought Wernher said the little tyke was in the freezer…"

With his left arm around Marie, Marcus quickly reached for his magnum and shot the guard in the kneecap with precision, splattering blood and pieces of bone everywhere and sending the guard onto the floor. He then kicked his assault rifle out from his hands and left through the door. More shots followed and Midea kicked open the door leading to the main gate, greeted by guards lying all over the place with .44 slugs in their kneecaps and shoulders.

She ran to the gate and saw Marcus and Dogmeat calmly walking away down the road towards the bridge, the former still holding Marie with one arm.

"MARCUS!" she ran after him as she called out. "WAIT FOR ME, PLEASE!"

Marcus stopped walking, freezing in place. He swore he could sense Midea once again being angry with him, and felt nothing.

"You can't just leave it with her," Midea yelled angrily at him. "Who the hell do you think you, taking what is left of our only chance for a cure? Judging us on what we've done to survive, huh? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

"Better than you."

Midea was shocked by Marcus' response. She tried to move her tongue so she could launch a comeback but the Wanderer's sudden movements stopped her.

"You're not coming with me," Marcus turned around to face her, ashamed. "I can't stand to have you around me."

She stopped dead in her tracks when he looked at her sternly, cradling the bundle delicately in his arms. Dogmeat appearing defensive with his teeth bared between her and Marcus discouraged her from moving any closer.

She looked up at Marcus, and felt more scared of him than Dogmeat at the moment. She saw Marcus staring into eyes and could swear he was staring into her soul, determining her fate as he did so. Any second now Wernher would catch up with him and make introduce them to a world of hurt the likes of which they've never felt.

"Where are you taking her?" Midea asked calmly.

"Away from this place," Marcus responded, turning around and walking away from the gate. "Away from you people. Goodbye."

Once he turned around the corner and out of eyeshot, Midea fell to knees and clutched the side of her face where Marcus' handprint was still visible. Kneeling there in the middle of the road she begun crying again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated to herself over and over. "I just…I just wanted to help everyone…to free the slaves…"

----------

Marcus closed his eyes tightly as he once again tried to drown everything out, knowing that Midea was a dead woman for letting him take Marie's body away from Wernher. He tried not to feel anything for her but he found that it was difficult.

He opened his eyes and sighed as he crossed the bridge, holding Marie's still cold, lifeless form in his embrace.

"I'm so cold."


	3. 3

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

Thanks for your reviews.

Enjoy...

* * *

Marcus was relieved to see the stars above him in the night sky as he stepped out of the tunnel and into the ruined slaver camp, their headless bodies still lying there decomposing. It was the smell of said corpses that reminded him that he had killed them all a week ago when they recognised him as the Lone Wanderer who destroyed Paradise Falls. They had aimed their weapons at them, and several VATS initiated headshots they were snuffed out.

The smell of rotting death reminded him that he also holding a dead child. A dead child, he decided, deserved to be buried somewhere away from the Pitt and those…people.

He sighed tiredly and begun the long trek across the wastes back to Megaton. It would be close to morning by the time he made it back to his _home_. _Home,_ as in the house he currently slept in at Megaton, not the Vault of which he grew up in.

Vault 101. Every time he thought of that fancy bunker he once perceived to just be, it made him feel…bitter. He thought he would feel angry but with respects to his only friend Amata it would just be bitterness.

Funny, when he thought about Amata or any other person from Vault 101 it also made him feel…'bitter'.

----------

Stolkholm stifled back a yawn as the sun rose in the distance across the wasteland. He rubbed his tired eyes and thought about beating the crap out the evening guard shift for not appearing and leaving him standing on the platform all night. He reached for his sniper rifle and contemplated beating his relief with the butt end of it when he noticed Marcus out of the corner of his eye.

"Eh?"

He put the sniper scope to his left eye and zoomed in. He saw him with his combat armour put the side next to a wrapped bundle, leaving him in a light blue sleeveless shirt. In his dirty hands was a shovel and he was digging a hole next to a pile of large rocks outside the front entrance, his pet dog keeping watch. Marcus stopped for a minute to wipe his forehead, then glance briefly at the bundle sadly and then go back to work.

Stolkholm looked over the side towards Lucas.

"Hey Sheriff?"

Lucas looked up at him, genuinely surprised to see him.

"You still standing guard, Stolkholm? Where the hell was evening shift?"

"Don't fuckin' want to know at the moment," Stolkholm tiredly called back. "That kid Marcus is digging a hole outside just outside the gate. Think he's gonna bury something?"

"_Something_?" Lucas said, sceptically, "Hmm…better check this out."

As he walked towards the front gate he looked back up at Stolkholm.

"From down here I can still see you look like shit," Lucas shouted at him. "Get some sleep."

Stolkholm turned his back and grumbled, "Just so when I wake up I'll be standing up here again. Goddamn lazy piece of shit…hey…"

He saw that Marcus had disappeared, leaving only the hole he had been digging.

"Where'd Marcus go?"

----------

It can be considered plain misfortune that Marcus had fallen asleep while finishing up with digging the grave. He had dug the grave big enough to fit a human adult and just as he was finishing the corners he just collapsed with exhaustion, the shovel lying on top of him. In the past he had gone almost days on end without sleep while searching for his father or running errands for people. But now that he had no sense of urgency any more he found himself feeling tired more often, like any other normal human.

He stirred when he heard barking.

"Mmm…feed _yourself_, Dogmeat. Ain't in the mood."

"Digging your own grave, Marcus?"

"Wha…ARGHH SHIT!"

Marcus woke up with a start, tossing the shovel away from him but it rebounded off the grave wall and back at him which conked him on the head, sending him lying back down again.

"Ow!"

Lucas smirked at the clumsy sight below him. He squatted next to the grave and adjusted his hat so that sun wasn't shining in his face, casting a shadow over it.

"No offence kid, but I think you've got at least another forty or fifty years," Lucas said. "I know you must feel you deserve a nice long rest but…"

"This isn't for me," Marcus shot back. "It's for…"

"The HELL?!"

Lucas stood back and examined the wrapped bundle, unwrapping it just enough so that he saw that it was a dead baby. He looked at the Lone Wanderer in shock as he climbed out of the grave and immediately went for his Chinese assault rifle. Marcus raised his hands at the sight of the sheriff's gun barrel pointed at him, and a dirty look on his face.

"You got ten seconds to explain yourself, boy," Lucas snarled at him. "Or I start calling you 'baby-killer.' You can guess what comes after that!"

Marcus frowned, "I'm burying someone that I practically condemned when I thought I did something good."

"Say what?" Lucas' eyes widened. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"Long story."

"Still got four seconds to tell me."

"_Four_ seconds?"

"Fine, one minute…_then_ I call you baby-killer and shoot you."

Marcus was able to explain everything that had happened in sixty seconds. He didn't go into exact detail, though. Only that he fought for a cause that he deemed noble and that when he found himself in a grey area for the first time in his life he went for the seemingly right choice, and found out afterwards it didn't seem all that right at all.

It was five seconds until the Wanderer's minute was up that Lucas, saddened by Marcus' story, lowered his assault rifle. Stockholm, while not hearing anything above the wind that blew over the waste, recognised the bundle was a lifeless Marie and immediately ran from his sniper position to the town, obviously intent on spreading the word around.

"So am I a baby-killer, sheriff?" Marcus asked him, worn. "Are you going to shoot me?"

Lucas sighed, "You're not…well…"

He tapped his forehead, then gritted his frustration.

"I don't know what to make of it, kid. Let's just say those assholes back at the Pitt were fucked either which way."

Marcus faced away from the sheriff and chuckled, "Well…I wouldn't put it _that_ way. But fucked nonetheless, given their circumstances."

----------

"Hey, did'ja hear? Marcus is burying some dead baby out front?"

"What? No way?"

"Oh my God!"

"Ain't his, but mighty sweet of him to do so."

"Did he kill her?"

"Nah, that ain't Marcus."

"Shut it, Gob. Put that mop down, we're goin' to see the little tyke get put in the ground today."

Word spread around Megaton and soon the whole town turned out outside Megaton in attendance, to pay their respects to the only truly pure child to be born on the Earth. These included Lucas, his son Hayden, Lucy West, Moira Brown, Billy, Maggie, Doc Church, the Stahl family and the Church of Atom stood around the hole in ground; the servants of Atom bowed their heads in respect and kept silent. To Marcus' and everyone else's surprise even Jericho and the denizens of Moriarty's Saloon – Colin, Gob and Nova, turned out this day.

Marcus wasn't surprised that the news had spread quickly, sooner or later someone was going to notice that a grave had been dug outside the town. But he was surprised that they were all modest about it, that even though they had yet to know the whole story they didn't quickly question or even blame him for Marie's death.

Jericho had noticed the stares he received and retorted. "What? Can't a guy pay his respects to a dead kid? Besides got nothing better to do than suck down Moriarty's piss water, so why not."

And for once nobody looked unsettled by Gob's appearance. Knowing this the Ghoul had looked over at Marcus and smiled appreciatively.

Moira had been the first to offer her services, managing to build a tiny coffin out of salvaged word from an unused closet in half an hour, just as Marie's body was finally beginning to smell. Lucy offered a half-dead flower to be put on the grave. Maggie had offered one of her toys to be put in the coffin with Marie so she'd have to play with, which touched Marcus and everyone else right where they lived. It appeared that Maggie had no idea how someone as young as Marie had to die and Billy knew he would have to clear that up with her eventually; that anyone, even before they were born, could lose their lives.

Confessor Cromwell volunteered to preside over the burial, as Marcus attached the coffin lid, obscuring Marie from the rest of the world forever. Maggie buried her face in Billy's left hip, sobbing quietly and asking why they had to bury her in the ground. The Lone Wanderer didn't make any sounds of exertion as he carried the coffin over to the hole and placed her carefully in it.

As the townsfolk scattered dirt into the grave, Cromwell spoke slowly and delicately.

"Atom did not mean for anyone on this earth to remain here for the entirety of their existence. Only for them to live out their mortal lives for as long and for as beautifully as possible, before eventually ascending to the heavens to join their forefather amongst the clouds." he started, his congregation now in prayer. "We commit to the ground one who never had the chance to live long or beautiful. One who had been taken from us prematurely in such a cruel way that we might never bring upon ourselves to forgive those who perpetrated such vile acts upon one so helpless and vulnerable."

Marcus closed his eyes shut and shook his head slowly as he stood before the grave, fumbling with the teddy bear he held behind his back.

Cromwell continued, "Atom forgive us for being unable to forgive, for it is he that ultimately has the right to forgive. Bless you, little Marie, and sleep until the heavens call for you."

The Wanderer couldn't help but smile lightly at Cromwell's eulogy. Even if he thought the man, his wife and their congregation were a little unhinged he appreciated his words. That smile faded when he produced the teddy bear and dropped it into the grave with the coffin. It was quickly buried beneath the scattered soil from the townsfolk.

Half and hour later the crowd dispersed, leaving only Marcus, Dogmeat and Moriarty standing before the now-fill grave and it's headstone, which was a piece of word with the name MARIE and TOO PURE FOR THIS WORLD. Marcus and Dogmeat were surprised to see Moriarty standing nearby. They looked curiously over at the saloon owner, who suddenly performed some gesture involving putting his index and middle fingers together; tapping his forehead, then the middle of his chest, followed by tapping himself near his left and right collarbones.

"Amen," they then heard him mutter.

The way he suddenly turned towards them made them step back a bit. He smiled, clearly enjoying startling them.

"I'm gonna go on a limb and take a guess that you didn't expect me to hang around after everyone's cleared off, eh lad?" Moriarty stated. "Especially for some lil' squealer I'd never care to meet."

Marcus shrugged, "I'd expect almost everyone to have at least a little compassion stuffed somewhere in their frames."

He smirked.

"Even you."

"Meh, you got me there," Moriarty replied. "Guess meeting you when you were first squeezed out twenty years ago rubbed off on me."

He didn't miss Marcus' facial tick when he mentioned his mother, and was slightly disappointed when the Wanderer kept his composure and just crossed his arms, his smile faded from his face. He always silently enjoyed Marcus either being frustrated with him or in denial, especially when he revealed the truth to him about being born outside _Vault 101._ He didn't understand why he liked to torment the kid,

"So what was that?"

"What was what?"

Marcus gestured with his fingers, "That thing with your fingers."

Moriarty's seemed interested when he was asked that. He answered, "Oh, er…just some old-time religious thing my folks tried to push on me when I was a lad. Used to beat me across the arse with the blunt end of a sword when I wouldn't say grace before we wolfed down our salvaged dogfood."

"Sounds like they _really_ loved you," Marcus commented dryly.

"They did," Moriarty rolled his eyes to the side. "Well at least they said they did just before they sucked down their last breaths. That, and about sorry twenty times."

"Do I want to know the details?"

Moriarty smirked, "Last I heard of that loudmouth Three Dog you put down about a thousand poor bastards all together. I don't think it would turn your stomach."

Marcus snorted in disgust, "Spare me then."

"Wise lad."

They shared a few second of silence.

"Well, better get back to making some more money off those pissheads. Bound to be crying their drinks so that'll save me watering them down, heh," Moriarty said as he turned to leave. He called back as he walked away "And you look like you could use some sleep, boyo."

Dogmeat looked up at him and whined worriedly as Marcus yawned. The Wanderer then got down on one knee before Marie's grave and tapped the name, smiling sadly.

"I hope we're even, Marie. Burying you somewhere close to a fragment of civilisation," he said to the tombstone. "I don't think I can live with this guilt all my life. I guess if there is a heaven…"

He stood back up and narrowed his eyes tiredly.

"…if there is a heaven and I eventually see you up there, you can remind me how much I screwed up and if this means anything…anything at all to you."

He became silent as the wind breezed past him, bristling his hair in it's direction.

"This…does mean something, right?"

----------

When he woke up Marcus couldn't remember walking to his house, opening the door, walking upstairs and collapsing on his mattress and falling asleep. He stood up and walked out of the bedroom, and looked out one of the windows to see that night had fallen over the wasteland once again. He yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Ah, good evening sir," Wadsworth called up to him from the main room cheerfully. "Allow me to say that you look a lot better."

"Cheers," Marcus replied, wiggling the fingers on his left hand as an ecstatic Dogmeat licked them. "Can't remember getting into bed."

"Well, I suppose staying up for days on end are finally having an adverse negative affect on you," Wadsworth said, concerned. "May I suggest you return to bed?"

"Not much to do at night I suppose."

Marcus walked back to his bedroom, and just as he sat back on his mattress…

"Eh?"

…his PIP BOY alerted him to receiving an incoming radio signal.

VAULT 101 EMERGENCY SIGNAL RECEIVED

The Wanderer groaned and held his head in his hands wearily.

"What the hell could they want with me now?" he muttered. "Assuming this signal is meant for me."

He adjusted his PIP BOY screen to the radio and selected the Vault 101 signal…

**This…is…an…automated…message. Vault…One-Oh-One…Message follows…**

He recognised the next voice after the computerised automatic one as Amata's.

_Marcus I know you are listening to this, and I know you must be angry after everything the Vault, my father, and even what I put you through. I know that everything that had happened wasn't you fault and you said you understood why you had to leave, but when I looked into you eyes I know that yo…ah…I'm sorry. His eyebrows were raised at the way Amata's voice sounded cracked, as well as , I'm so sorry. I didn't know what I was thinking. Please…please come back. We have no idea what to expect out here. We need you…_

She paused.

_**I**__ need you._

"Huh?"

_I've changed the door code to the name of the Wasteland's living legend. Heh, we've been listening to Three Dog's transmission from one of the radios Susie brought back. He's right, you know. You are a hero. And it's time you came home._

_Please. If you forgive us, if you forgive me, please return home._

_This message repeats._

He switched off the radio and stared aimlessly ahead, Dogmeat sitting on his behind before him, turning his head in confusion. Marcus still remembered the reasons why he _had_ to leave the Vault and he accepted it, even though he didn't like…hated…it. Over a couple of month has passed around the same amount of time his father has been dead and already he had begun to resent everyone back at Vault 101, including Amata. But he particularly hated all those people who had declared that the troubles with the vault were his and his father's fault.

What the hell did _they_ know? To him the older generation, except for a select few – Mr. Brotch, Stanley Armstrong, Beautrice Armstrong, Lucy Palmer, and Jonas Palmer – were too content with being locked away from the rest of the world, institutionalised, spoiled even. In the Wanderer's eyes they were simple, inferior. They were nothing compared to himself and the strength, intelligence, perception, charisma, agility, luck and not to mention the renown he had gained over the months he spent on the surface. All the pain, madness and sorrow he went through during his search for his father and his struggles against the vices of the Capital Wasteland.

Simple was the word to describe the older folk of Vault 101, they had no idea of everything they went through. It was almost funny, the fact that he had returned to the home front armed with a plasma rifle and outfitted in his T-51B Power Armour. They still had the gall to insult and blame him, though he was heavily armed and armoured and nothing in that vault could stop him. Wally Mack even went as far as saying that he had no idea what it was like to have a hero for a father. Right there and then he wanted to punch that prick in the face, maybe even set Dogmeat on his father – Allen Mack, the person who immediately blamed him ruining everything.

But something kept his hand and his wrath at bay. It was that remaining shred of loyalty and affection he had for his friends and the people his own age that kept him from imposing himself over the inhabitants of the vault. That kept him from making life horrible for him…like sabotaging the vault's air filtration and scattering them all over the Wasteland.

Funny, when he thought of Amata's transmission he then thought of how much the older generation hated him.

His mind clicked and his head shot up in realisation. He smiled widely and looked down at Dogmeat.

"Aroo?"

"What do you think, boy? Should I go back one last time and clear things up with them?"

Dogmeat then barked loudly. The Wanderer nodded and got off his bed, walked downstairs and went for his gun locker. He pulled out his A-23 Plasma Rifle and put it aside, then stripped himself of his combat armour and opened the door to his apparel locker, pulling out the pieces of his polished T-51B Power Armour.

"Allow me to help with that, sir?" Wadsworth hovered towards him, arms reached for the pieces of armour.

After strapping on the padded jumpsuit Marcus stretched his arms outward to the side, "Please."

As Wadsworth attached the pieces of power armour to his frame: chest, waist, shoulder plating; the Mr. Handy model robot made small talk, "So which conflict zone are you due to be present at today, sir? Does the Brotherhood require your particular talents?"

Marcus smiled as the armour was attached to him, interfacing into his jumpsuit.

"I'm just going back to where I thought I was born."

"For what reason, sir?"

The Wanderer shrugged his shoulders as he adjusted once again to the heavy armour. He then reached for his plasma rifle and slung it across his bag, before walking upstairs to his Nuka-Cola dispenser and pulling out a ice cold Nuka Cola and quickly sucking it down, letting out a refreshed sigh as he did so. He then walked down and addressed the robot.

"Closure. Let's leave at that, alright?"

"Yes sir. Please be careful."

"I intend to," Marcus smirk grew wider, which disappeared beneath his power helmet as he put it on. His voice projected through the helmet speakers as he continued, "I know what _they're_ planning to do, and I'm a _hundred_ steps ahead of them."

With Dogmeat behind him Marcus slammed his house door behind him, and ventured once again into unknown territory.


	4. 4

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

_A/N: You've just noticed I've changed the story's summary. I felt it needed an update to suit the direction that story's going…_

* * *

If there was one thing Marcus remotely liked about travelling across the wasteland at night, it was being under the bright stars and the moon. When he was a child he had learnt that around three hundred years ago there were enough lights on in the D.C. area after the sun had gone down for the stars to hide behind. Marcus assumed that it would have killed people to not be able to see the moon and stars clearly; at least those people that appreciated the night sky, anyway.

The Lone Wanderer sighed as he closed his eyes and let the cool breeze pass by him as he walked past the remains of the township of Springvale on his way to the vault. He wasn't afraid of any raider activity, seeing as how he killed close to half of them to persuade the remaining half to stay away. When he had discovered the raider's ludicrous plot to break into Vault 101 he had showed absolutely no mercy to the wasteland folk, leaving behind him close a hill of dead bodies, severed limbs and strewn eyeballs…mostly in a sauce-like paste.

Dogmeat's sudden bark brought him to an alert state, arm raised and poised to reach for his plasma rifle his perception gave him notice of someone else approaching the vault entrance from a different angle. He lowered his arm as he begun to climb the hill upwards to the mine entrance to the vault, the compass built into his Pipboy indicating that 'someone else' was a friendly – indicated by the green dash instead of a red one.

"Hey, you!"

He looked to the left above the entrance to see a familiar looking young woman about his own age standing there in a Vault 101 uniform and security vest and aiming an assault rifle at him. Dogmeat growled defensively as Marcus stood there, unfazed by the sight of a rifle barrel pointing at him, the 5.56mm rounds barely enough to pierce through his armour.

The young woman's eyes widened as she lowered her rifle.

"Marcus?" she recognised him only by the dog by his side, not being able to see his face because of his helmet. "Is that you?"

She almost shivered at the sound of Marcus' projected voice when he replied, "Yeah, it's me, Susie."

He reached for his plasma rifle with his left hand as he pointed at her rifle with his right hand, where her mouth was agape slightly with his hostile response.

"Next time you point that thing at me, you better make sure you hit me where it counts…"

He held his rifle with one hand, then pointed to it with his right pointer finger.

"…cause' I sure as hell will not hesitate to fire back where it _definitely_ counts."

"Okay, alright," Susie responded calmly yet defensively as she climbed down, slinging her rifle across her back as she stood level with him outside the main entrance. "No need to be like that. I wouldn't have fired at you anyway…"

She paused when she realised that Marcus was underneath all that power armour.

"…seeing that you're…in that armour." she pointed at him. "Again."

Marcus sighed loudly and slung his plasma rifle. He then reached for his helmet and pulled it off, revealing his face and red hair for her to see. Susie stepped back some to give him room, but mostly because she was beginning to feel uncomfortable being around him.

Ever since she last saw him a couple of months ago when he returned to the vault, Susie Mack was still in a state of disbelief that the former vault doctor's son had become a hero in the eyes of the Capital Wasteland. Here was Marcus, formally the quiet, gentle yet intelligent and charismatic vault kid. The first person to ever get out of doing the G.O.A.T. and yet was most likely going to become the next vault doctor after his father or something even better thanks to his friendship with the teacher Mr. Brotch; was the strongest, most powerful individual in the wastes.

She felt frightened and ashamed when she thought that it was because he had been chased out of Vault 101 that drove him out of the Vault after his father that begun his metamorphosis into someone resourceful and deadly that can survive in the hellish warzone outside the vault. Susie wondered if anyone else besides him that had left the vault under the same circumstance would haved turned out like him, or would have died or even worse. But then again Marcus was a very unique person.

Amidst her thinking she saw his lips mouth but heard nothing.

"Sorry," she rubbed the side of her head. "What did you say?"

"I said 'sorry.'"

She raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"For going off at you like that," Marcus explained calmly. "I'm used to about everyone out here pointing their guns _and_ firing at me."

"Oh…er…fine, that's ok. I'm sorry too," Susie nodded. "But seriously, why are you wearing a T-51B and that goofy helmet? I would have shot you if I didn't recognise Dogmeat."

"In case things turn foul," Marcus replied firmly, eyes narrowed determinedly. "I'm returning to the Vault."

"What?"

"You heard me the first time."

She frowned. "I don't think the Overseer…"

"Amata," Marcus interrupted her with a frown.

"_Amata_…is ready to let you come back," Susie continued. "Her reasons for sending you back out here were pretty good."

"I don't feel like hearing what those reasons are," Marcus crossed her arms. "They'll probably piss me off."

Susie was taken back by Marcus' harsh response. Two months ago she heard Amata come to the conclusion that the wastes hadn't changed the Wanderer's personality or preference to confront people rather than fight them. And when Amata had asked him to leave, he said he understood why and even gave a sincere goodbye.

Why was it now that Marcus looked and sounded like a different person?

"Anyway, in case you haven't checked your Pipboy frequency, she sent me a message," Marcus said, sarcasm beginning to weigh heavily in his voice. "She's invited me back, and somehow at the moment I prefer claustrophobic hallways to his big wide space."

Susie's eyes widened upon hearing all that.

"That's strange."

"What is?"

"She sent me a radio frequency telling _me_ to come back," Susan tapped his Pipboy. "She said that 'all hands in the wasteland have to come back as soon as possible?'"

Marcus crossed his arms, "Really?"

"Really." Susie replied. She then reasoned, "Weird, if Amata sent a transmission asking you to come back, then _I_ would have picked it up…."

"…and if she sent out a frequency addressed to you and everyone else walking this place then _I_ would have picked it up," Marcus finished for her.

Susie shrugged, "We'll just ask her about that when we go back. You know…"

She smiled hesitantly at him

"…screw what my dad says about you I'm glad you're coming back again. I never thought I'd ever say it but I feel safer around you."

Marcus looked at her strangely then asked bluntly, "I killed Steve, you know."

Susie smile faded, then she downcast her eyes as the memories of her older brother, "I know. And for some reason that doesn't bother me."

Intrigued, Marcus then asked, "Would it bother you if I said 'he had it coming'?"

"He was such an unstable kind of person I don't know why dad recommended to Amata's dad he'd be made a guard," Susie lamented. "He scared me and Wally a lot when were kids…."

"I blew his head off."

Susie felt gritted her teeth briefly and she gulped, "He did kill Jonas, and I know you liked him."

"Didn't think a 10mm round to the forehead would do that. In fact it's supposed to be impossible to blow a person's head off with a handgun…"

"WILL YOU STOP THAT?" she then shouted at him as she lost her composure

Marcus frowned back at her, causing her to drop her glare as fear suddenly gripped her with Marcus' shifting behaviour.

"It _does_ bother you then," Marcus said. "Don't act like you're happy to see me, Susie Mack. It insults me."

He then rolled his eyes towards the mine door leading to the Vault.

"Let's go home."

----------

"J-A-M-E-S," Marcus iterated loud as he imputed the changed code into the Vault-Tec console next to the vault door. "A far better person than any of us."

Susie looked over at him as he imputed the new code into the console, once again being by him and his silent rambling. They stepped back and Susie found it necessary to block her ears to drown out the loud, grinding sound of metal as the circular door opened and rolled itself out of the way. Marcus reached for his helmet which was fastened to his side and put it over his head.

"Why are you putting your helmet back on?" Susie asked him. "Are you expecting everyone to turn on you the second to step back in?"

"I'm expecting a few too," Marcus replied, his voice projected through the speakers. "And they'll most likely go for the head."

Susie was starting to feel more uncomfortable being around the Lone Wanderer. As he turned away from her to face the entryway into the vault she looked visibly uncomfortable being around him.

'God I hope everything he's been through hasn't finally drove him off the deep end.'

She then shook her head and stepped into the vault first, surprised to not be hearing Marcus' heavy footsteps behind her. She felt herself instinctively freeze in place when she heard the hammer of a pistol being thumbed back.

"Please don't move, Susan," a familiar, elderly voice said almost pleadingly. "Please don't make this any harder for any of us."

"Mr. Taylor?"

The old security guard had been waiting near the door for Susie to return, standing close to the wall behind the railing near the door. Luckily he did not hear her conversation with Marcus, nor notice the Lone Wanderer and his canine companion as he retreated out of sight against the wall outside the doorway into the vault. Susie put her assault rifle down on the ground as Taylor stepped towards her, gun still trained on her.

"Good girl," Taylor said as he smiled, relieved. "You're cooperating and that's good. The Overseer said that at least _you_ would show common sense."

"Amata?" Susie gasped. "Did she put you up to this?"

Marcus frowned at that implication, but was somewhat relieved when Taylor denied it.

"No…ah," Taylor replied as he slowly bent over to pick up Susie's rifle. "Your father."

Allen Mack - father of Susie, Wally and the late Steve Mack. The only person in the vault who actually hated him, while everyone else merely resented him.

"What's going on here?" Susie asked. "Where's Overseer Amata?"

"She's being…removed from office," Taylor explained. "Your dad's decided to…

Taylor then felt the barrel of Marcus' plasma rifle against the side of his head. His eyes widened and his mouth was agape as he begun to tremble in fear to the sound of the Wanderer's breathing through his helmet. He felt his hold on his 10mm pistol weaken until it fell and cluttered onto the steel ground.

"It's…it's you isn't it?"

"Weren't you expecting me to come back, you old fool?" Marcus asked roughly. "You're as senile as you're a bad shot!"

"There's no need…to say terrible things like…"

"Shut up."

"Alright! Alright!" Taylor put his hands up pleadingly. "Please don't hurt me. I was just following orders…"

"From Allen Mack?" Marcus stated. "Keh…so he finally decided to seize power."

Shocked, Susie demanded, "What happened while we were gone?"

Marcus grabbed the old man by the scruff of his armour and pushed him against the steps leading up from the door.

"Your dad convinced some of the adults that the vault door shouldn't have been reopened and that he should have been Overseer instead of Amata," he explained panicked. "I thought…I thought….I thought he was right. I…I helped him put the kids and some of the adults in the jail, I…I…"

Taylor begun to breathe a lot harder until he sounded like he was choking.

"He's having a heart attack!" Susie exclaimed. "Goddamn it…"

Marcus sighed loudly and exasperatedly….

"Don't have time for this."

…and whipped out a stimpack and injected it into the side of his neck. Lucky for the old man it was fast acting and he found himself breathing right again, but now unconscious. Marcus and Susie stood up and looked at one another.

"What now?" Susie asked. "What do we do now?"

"I'd asked you to have a talk with him, seeing as how you're the 'Overseer's' daughter," the Lone Wanderer said. "But since that didn't work with Amata I don't think that would work with you."

Susie chuckled humourlessly. "No, and my dad's always had it in for you and _your_ dad."

She then looked at him seriously.

"What can we do?"

----------

Amata Almodovar sat against the wall in the holding cell in the Security Office, the other prisoners opting to stand around while they await their fate from the 'acting' Overseer. Among these prisoners were Butch DeLoria, his mother Ellen, Mr. Brotch, Stanley Armstrong, a severely beaten and incapacitated Officer Herman Gomez, several other Vault 101 Dwellers whose dusty, dirty clothing suggested they had been outside; and the previous Overseer Alphonse Almodovar.

'Where did I go wrong?' Amata thought to herself bitter and repeatedly. 'Allen, Wally…damn Macks…should've known…'

She closed her eyes tightly and banged the wall with the back of her head repeatedly in frustration.

'Should've done something…'

She then opened her eyes, now feeling upset.

'You're walking into a trap, Marcus. I'm so sorry, I should never have told you to leave. You'd never let this happen.'

"Hey Amata!"

Butch jolted the disposed Overseer out of her thoughts. The leather-wearing greaser sat up from the bed and stepped over to her, a mean glare on his face.

"Is Marcus coming anytime soon?" he demanded impatiently. "I can't stand sitting on my ass in this goddamn cell any longer waiting for Mr. Goody Two-Shoes to spring us out!"

Alphonse, standing by the cell door with his arms crossed, glared at the leather-wearing young man. "DeLoria, if whatever's left of your decency and respect hasn't left this prison cell, show some respect to your Overseer."

Butch brushed him off. "Pfff…she ain't getting that from me. She should've never kicked Marc out of this hole in the first place. He would've been on those motherfuckers before they even thought of tryin' to take over."

Brotch smiled and said, "Sounds to me you're counting on Marcus to come save us, Butch."

Butch looked over at his least favourite person as if he was stupid. "No shit, Teach! Way the radio yaps on about him it's like he knows where troubles at!"

He then looked over at Amata, appearing disgusted.

"_That_…and the signal Mack made you send out. Honestly you're a real pushover, Amata…"

Stung, Amata stood up and shot back at him, "Try having a gun pointed at _your_ father's head and told to lure _your_ best friend to his death or else."

She then sighed and relaxed.

"I'm counting on him to know it's a trap."

Alphonse narrowed his eyes and shook his head tiredly. "If your friend is truly as intelligent as he has become he will know it is trap…"

Everyone looked at him as he explained calmly.

"…the real question is: Will he bring himself to help us one more time?"

Butch was confused. "Why wouldn't he? He wouldn't just up and forget about us, right?"

He then smiled awkwardly.

"I mean…we're his friends, right?"

He noticed everyone looking down at the floor as if feeling ashamed. His eyes widened, then looked over at Amata.

"Well…at least he still likes you, Amata. Well, at least until…FUCK!"

Everyone nearly jumped when Butch swore.

"You just had to throw them out, didn't ya eh Overseer?" he cried. "Way he's treated out there compared to down here he wouldn't be assed to come back now would he? Especially for you."

Amata gritted her teeth and fisting through her hair. "That was a mistake Butch! I thought he would've still caused tensions in the Vault to still be high and…oh God…"

"Amata?" Alphonse looked at his daughter, concerned.

"I hope to God he doesn't come back," she moaned.

"OI!"

They looked to the cell windows to see Officer Armstrong banging on them with his pistol drawn and a grimace on his face.

"Pipe down in there!" Armstrong ordered them. "The Overseer demands it!"

Herman frowned and indicated Amata when he said, "No she doesn't."

Armstrong smirked, "No, she doesn't is the phrase all right. She politely asks; specially' with that little prick Marcus."

He then crossed his arms and leaned near the window, a smile on his face as he spoke to the prisoners over his shoulder.

"Speaking of which, the little prick should be here soon. Hero-boy just loves coming in to save the day, eh?"

----------

"You know, you coming back here is part of my dad's plan. He and his friends will kick your steel ass."

"Wally, shut up will you? He's here to help!"

"Why did you bring him here, Susie? Your dad will probably kick all three of us out for this!"

"Mom! He's got a plan. He's going to put a stop to this once and for all. He's here to help…"

"Oh yeah, like he 'helped' did last time? Him and his traitor daddy."

"Uh…Wally?"

"What?"

"Who's holding the plasma rifle here?"

Wally Mack grunted uncomfortably as the switchblade he hid in his pant and obscured by his shirt was pushed uncomfortably against him as he backed up against the wallwhen Marcus aimed his plasma rifle at his head, looking sternly at the loud-mouthed vault dweller. Wally felt himself shake in his spot, not expecting the once quiet, yet charismatic doctor's son aim a weapon _at_ him. The Lone Wanderer looked ready to reduce Wally to a pile of green goo, and not even the shocked, pleading faces of Susie and her mother Gloria would sway him otherwise.

"Good, you've finally managed to shut your mouth," Marcus said. "Now you will listen to what I'm gonna propose to put a stop to this. And since you're the family of the asshole behind this set up it's logical I talk to you."

He lowered his rifle and stepped aside to allow Susie, who had been standing in the doorway to the Mack residence, to ran past him and embrace Gloria and Wally in a hug. He cleared his throat.

"You're going to get me close to your old man so I can talk to him," Marcus explained. "I dealt the last guy who was trying to screw everyone down here over without having to chalk up another kill and I want to do it again."

He then frowned more intensely.

"And I don't feel having another father die around me in the process."

Infuriated that Marcus would even think of killing his father, Wally cried, "You little…AWK!"

The Mack women screamed when Marcus grabbed Wally by the throat and lifted him in the air, his strength courtesy of the muscle he gained in his time in the wastes and machinations in his power armour. Mack hands gripped the Wanderer's left hand in an attempt to pry them open, but to no avail.

"I should've done this when you mouthed off about my dad, _Wallace,_" Marcus growled. "But back then I thought I knew better than to put my fist in your mouth."

Susie's was once again frightened of the Wanderer.

'This…this can't be Marcus,' she thought, scared. 'Marcus was never like this at all.'

"Will you kindly shut up now?"

"GLAAKKK…yes…"

Marcus dropped him on his ass and exhaled out his nose. He then turned to Gloria.

"Look, I want to help I really do," Marcus said, his tone now softer. "But you're not making it easy for me."

Gloria nodded, "I know. Look, we're sorry for everything…just stop hurting us, please."

"Then take me to Allen. Where he is?"

"Uh…Overseer's office, gah…!" Wally forced out as he rubbed his sore throat. "Look…just…just don't kill him…"

Marcus narrowed his eyes, pensive. "If he's give me no reason not to…"

The door into the residence suddenly opened, revealing a security officer.

"Hey, I thought I heard screaming in…" the officer begun. He then noticed Marcus. "SHIT!"

Gloria and Susie screamed when the guard raised his pistol and fired at Marcus' head, the bullet grazing his cheek and hitting the wall above Mack, who was slumped against the wall on the floor. Dogmeat growled and lunged at the officer, knocking him down sinking his sharp canines into the officer's throat and tearing it out, blood splattering all over the dog and the floor.

Marcus sighed, "Kill number one-thousand and one."

Wally backed up against the wall in fright, eyes widened so hard that vein begun to appear.

"Don't make it a thousand and two," he muttered bitterly. "Your move."

----------

Allen Mack sat at the Overseer's desk, checking the time on his Pip-Boy for the fifteenth time this evening. He frowned when he received no report from Officer Taylor regarding either the return of his daughter Susie or the capture of James' stupid kid Marcus. He had planned to reprimand and discipline his daughter for endangering herself by venturing out into the wasteland, but that can wait right after he personally puts a bullet through Marcus' head.

He hoped that his master plan to gather up every wandering Vault 101 dweller would run smoothly, then he would set up making sure that the Vault door would be sealed shut for good, never top be opened again. He counted on Marcus' friendship with Amata to make him return here, especially with that radio transmission addressed specifically to him, among the others he made the proper Overseer send out as he personally put a pistol to her father's head.

'Where in the hell is that goody two shoes? That Paladin? That fucking…Messiah?' Allen though angrily, recalling a couple of title that loudmouth DJ on the radio referred to him as. 'Wasteland Savior my ass.'

----------

The door into the security office opened and in stepped Marcus, with Wally and Susie in tow. Officer Armstrong spun around and raised his pistol, then losing all feeling in his arm as it was blown off his torso and he was sent falling onto the ground, still alive and conscious. Marcus tossed Susie some Buffout and she went to his aid.

"Marcus!" Amata cried. "You…you came back…"

The Wanderer disregarded her as he opened the cell door, immediately greeted by jubilation amongst the prisoners. Even Alphonse couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"So you came back after all," the former Overseer crossed his arms. "I was beginning to think that…"

"Even after all the 'damage' I caused I'd wouldn't want to return amidst such tensions in the vault, therefore making them worse?" Marcus finished for him, eliciting a look of surprise and confusion from him. "Always for the sake of the Vault, eh Alphonse?"

The happiness begun to die down as Marcus' cynicism sliced through them.

"So the wasteland's finally gotten to you, Marky-boy?" Butch commented wryly. "I never thought you were that…HEY!"

Marcus turned around and walked towards the door, followed by a growling Dogmeat.

"What'll you doing?"

"Leaving. Help yourselves."

"Wait…wait! Fuck what I just said."

Marcus smiled and spun around, revealing his smirk to everyone present.

"Glad to hear that, Butch," Marcus said. "I bet you thought I'd struggle with whether I should come back here or not, did you?"

"Well we hoped you would," Stanley said. "You seem like the only person that would still have the heart to bail us out a second time."

Brotch nodded. "We thought you wouldn't, though."

"I thought I wouldn't either."

Everywhere gasped and muttered amongst themselves. Amata looked at him, disbelief written all over her face.

"I knew this would be a set up," Marcus said, ignoring the moans from the down security officer, the buffout managing to stop the bleeding. "But I didn't think it would involve everyone else in the vault, only me."

"How?"

"Huh?"

"How did you know?" Amata asked him.

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck and blew some loose hair from eyes. "The way you talked over the radio, how you paused briefly and sounded unsure of yourself, that clued me in that you were coerced."

Brotch smiled, "Impressive."

"And I knew your reasons why you sent out of the vault," Marcus continued, once again embittered. "And you would never go back on them, not in a million years, even for me."

Amata opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, once again feeling ashamed of herself.

"What do you plan to do now?" Alphonse inquired of the Wanderer. "Talk to Allen Mack and persuade him like you did me? Hmph, there's no chance of changing his mind, for he firmly believes that we must shield ourselves completely from the world."

"I'll find a way. I got through to you didn't I?" Marcus replied much to Alphonse's consternation then stepped forward and grabbed Wally by the scruff of his suit. "But I'll need some help."

"Hey…AH!"

Everyone cried out as Marcus pulled Wally back towards him and the doorway. Susie turned to face him, stunned.

"Marcus!"

Amata watched silently as Marcus and Dogmeat, with Wally as their hostage, stepped out of the security office. She felt like crying, for it would seem her 'best' friend no longer felt anything for her, judging from the way he barely acknowledged her and when he just did he sounded…bitter…towards her.

----------

"MACK!"

Three security personnel raised their guns at the door leading into the Overseer's office as Allen stood from behind the desk. The usurper sweated intensely as the familiar sounds of steel boots on metal floor became louder with each millisecond, and the Wanderer calling out his name indicated he now stood right outside the door.

The door opened and the officers gripped their pistols tightly. Only the sight of Wally standing in front of Marcus discouraged them from firing…

"WALLY!"

…and Allen crying out in despair. Wally was suddenly roughly kicked forward into the office, giving the officers opportunity to unload their clips at the armoured Lone Wanderer. By the fact that Marcus blasted their pistols out of their hands using VATS didn't allow them to seize that opportunity. They stepped back, hands raised, and allowed Marcus and Dogmeat to step into the office, plasma rifle in hand.

Allen tried to come to his son's aid but was then staring down the barrel of the plasma rifle. Raising his hands, he smirked.

"You're typical, you know that Marcus," Allen said. "Amata just needs to say a few words over the frequency and you'd come rushing back down here."

Marcus snorted, "Hmph! Guess I do have a shred of loyalty left to Amata and the place I spent the first twenty years of my life."

"Loyalty?"

"Yeah, just loyalty," Marcus said. "That I feel an obligation to pull this dump out of the shitter one last time. Then after that, no more. I leave here on my own terms, not cause' the person I helped asks me to."

Startled, Allen was taken back by Marcus' statement, but no more than Wally.

"You…you didn't come back to help us because you liked Amata?" Wally cried. "Only because you think you're _obliged_ too?"

Marcus smiled, albeit sadly. "Sad, huh? I'm suppose to always feel warm and fuzzy for my one true home and the girl I thought I always had a crush on; but now they don't really mean that much to me any more."

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Very…very sad, indeed."

He looked sternly at Allen, his eyes full of contempt for the man before him.

"I knew you were setting a trap for me, Allen. You and some of the older generation; it's given me a good reason to come back and tie some loose ends," Marcus stated.

"Loose ends?" Allen growled.

"Here's how this is gonna work," Marcus continued. "Either you put an end to this bullshit you've got going on or I'll reduce you to a puddle of green, unintelligible puddle of crap on the floor. How's that for a fair deal?"

Allen, getting over the shock of Marcus' revelation towards the vault, looked angrily at the Wanderer and stated, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Someone who can't stand repeating himself."

Wally chimed in as he reached the back of his pants and produced the switchblade which Marcus didn't notice, "Uh…dad, maybe we should…"

"NO!" Allen exclaimed. "I'm sick of all this nonseance! I'm trying to keep everyone from killing themselves out in the wastes, doing a better job then both Alphonse and his little bitch, and then you come back here and flash your high tech weaponry, your power armour and your…"

"Did I mention another reason why I came down here?"

"No, what…?"

"Closure…from being blamed for something I didn't do."

"Wha…NO!"

Marcus pulled the trigger just as Susie and Gloria appeared behind her. The Macks all screamed as a flash of green blinded everyone present.

"DAD!"

* * *

_So what you think? I hope I've made Marcus into a psychologically compelling character._


	5. 5

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

"Shit! Was that gunfire?"

"Fuck, it was…!"

Amata was frozen in place as she panicked when she heard Marcus' plasma rifle go off, oblivious to the vault dwellers around her skirmishing with the vault's surviving security personnel loyal to Allen, some of which reacting verbally to the sound of plasma burst fire. She narrowly avoided an officer's baton, pulled out of the way by Susie, where Butch tackled the officer. The greaser then grabbed the officer's baton and struck him repeatedly across the head until he was unconscious.

"Amata you dumb bitch! What are you doing standing around?" Butch yelled at her as he delivered one last punch to the officer. "Will you start acting like the Overseer al…?"

"EVERYONE STOP IT…NOW!"

It was everyone's turn to freeze as all eyes were suddenly on her. A few of the populace quivered in panic upon incurring the verbal wrath of the Overseer. Even Butch had been taken back by Amata's angry outburst, stepping back some just out of safety. Alphonse smirked as he stood in the cell, having watched the fisticuffs all this time and done nothing, instead having relished in the anarchy and waiting for his daughter to step in and take control.

And now that she has, and having done so with four words, he couldn't be more proud of her.

"No more fighting, please!" she exclaimed, still angry but she almost sounded like she was begging. "This just happened before, and remember where _that_ almost took us if not for Marcus!"

"Yeah…what the hell did Marcus just do?" Stanley said. "That sounded like an energy weapon going off."

Susie's eyes widened in realisation, and she found herself pushing her way through the crowd out of security station and towards the Overseer's office.

"DAD!"

----------

Marcus didn't count on Wally being armed with a switchblade. He planned on just inflicting plasma burns on both his legs, perhaps reduce one of them to goo, which would be enough to break Allen and force him into submission. He wouldn't feel bad about inflicting pain on him, seeing how he felt nothing for the boy his own age. But when he saw that blade in both Wally's hands, instead of his legs Marcus instinctively pointed his rifle at his chest. He knew that the blade wouldn't be able to pierce his armour, but when anyone threatened him it was practically his civic duty to fight back.

And now Wally Mack laid before him on his back, a massive green smoking hole in his chest and a shocked expression upon his lifeless face. Marcus looked embittered as all hell when he looked down at both Wally's parent's sobbing over their son's body. The formally hardened young man red-haired young man was shocked speechless as he stood there before the doorway.

He disregarded Susie…

"Dad? Mom? WALLY! OH MY GOD!"

…as she entered the Overseers office followed by other vault dwellers as well as vault security personnel. She screamed when she saw her brother dead, partially melted body on the floor and immediately flung herself past Marcu and over it the corpse beside her mother, splattering some goo over her hands in a vain attempt to wake him up. When Amata caught up with the small gathering outside the Overseer's officer, she moved her hands over his mouth in a shocking fashion, eyes quivering with fright at the sight of Marcus looking down over the sobbing, destroyed family.

With tears running down his face Allen looked up at Marcus. He saw how the colour had faded from his face and eyes were alert as if realisation of his actions had finally dawned on him. The Lone Wanderer saw that Allen was looking at him, both devastated and angry.

Marcus frowned back intensely. He hissed, "Don't blame me, Mac!"

"WHY NOT?" Susie screamed at him, anguished. "YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"

"Uh…" Marcus' frown faded, for the first time in a long while he was speechless. "He…"

Amata and everyone else continued to watch silently, unsure of what to do next.

"Motherfucking intense…" Butch whispered in awe.

"He…he…" Marcus drawled on.

Susie then grabbed Wally's switchblade from his cold open palm and lunged at Marcus.

"NO!" Amata shouted. "MARCUS, LOOK…"

She was silenced once again as the sound of steel being snapped in two echoed around them. Having held the blade with both hands she thrust the melee weapon forward against Marcus' armour, the sheer force of her strike and the strength and density of Marcus' power armour enough to snap the blade. It cluttered to the ground slowly enough for both Susie and Marcus to watch it fall.

They then looked at each other again, and Susie found herself stepping backwards fearfully when Marcus advanced on her, plasma rifle in her hands. The Macks all gripped each other and backed up against the far wall of the office right next to the lockers. Everyone moved closer to see what was going on, but still kept outside the office.

Except for Amata.

"Marcus," she said, meekly. "Please…"

Marcus felt his hands tremble as he held the plasma rifle, looking at the trembling Mack family which he towered over.

"Please what?" Marcus said, his intense gaze on Susie, the latest person to attempt violence on him.

"Please…no more," she said, hand clasped together pleadingly as if in prayer. "We won't bother you again. Just…just don't hurt them…we'll leave you alone. We won't cause any more trouble for you. We won't give you any more reason to…"

"Amata."

She held her tongue.

"Are you going to attack me too?"

Amata's eyes widened, having just been asked that question by none other than Marcus himself. The Lone Wanderer stared at her, no emotion or any sort of expression upon his face. He was just plain and emotionless.

"N…no…" Amata replied hesitantly.

"Then you don't have to be afraid of me," Marcus declared.

He then looked down at the Mack family.

"_You_ should have been," Marcus addressed Allen, who looked back up at him from Wally again now, more angrier. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't any contempt for the outside world."

He paused.

"Or…me for that matter."

Allen gritted his teeth, enough to make one or two of them crack.

"Your…fault…" he struggled to hiss.

Marcus frowned and shook his head. "No. _Your_ fault."

He then shouted down at Allen angrily.

"YOUR FAULT!"

And obviously remembering the _last time_ Allen declared that it was his fault, taking him back and, through instinct, throw himself between his family and the power armoured Lone Wanderer.

"Do something, Overseer," Amata heard someone say quietly to her.

"You brought me back here, remember?" Marcus continued, heatedly. "You invited me. You tried to trap me. I defended myself."

He glanced at Wally's body.

"I defended myself from him."

He and Dogmeat then turned around towards doorway and stepped out of the office, leaving Allen both devastated and thinking about his words and beginning the first step to blaming himself for his son's death by the hands of someone who really did have no fault in him from the very beginning.

The populace of the vault cleared out of his way as he headed for the exit back into the hallways of the vault, intent on leaving his former home forever. However Amata rushed ahead of them and stood before the Wanderer.

"Amata!" Alphonse called out to her.

"Marcus," Amata said. "Don't leave."

"Why?" Marcus inquired. "I've cleaned up this mess haven't I? What you do with the Allen Mack is your business."

He tried pushing his way past her but her hands shot forward and grabbed his tightly.

"I…I know you don't really want to leave," she stammered towards the back of his head. "That none of this is your fault. People won't blame you any more, you've opened their eyes to what's being going on down here, and out there."

Marcus' eyes softened and he begun to lose his hard frown.

"And we…I…I…I…" she tried to think of more enlightening stuff to say. Failing that, she blurted out, "I…need you."

She felt her heart stop beating for a second when Marcus turned his head to the side to face her, eyes narrowed.

Worn out, Marcus replied, "But _I_ don't need your."

He then pulled his hand away from her and begun walking down the hallway, taking the hallway that would lead him closest to the vault entrance. Amata watched him and Dogmeat leave, heart breaking and tears running down here face.

"H…how?" she said quietly as she watched them go. "Why?"

Marcus stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder.

"A baby died," Marcus called out to her.

He then disappeared out of sight, to walk through the mostly depopulated vault one last time before leaving forever. All the other vault dwellers having being gathered outside the Overseer's office watched all this unfold. Each of them had been shocked to complete silence over the events which had just unfolded before them, where even Butch felt disturbed by the sight of Marcus turning his back on his one-time best friend.

"Shouldn't you be following him?" Mr. Brotch addressed the greaser. "You said you had a brew waiting for you back at Rivet City."

Butch shook his head. "I think I'll stick around a while. For Susie, you know."

Brotch sighed sadly. "Yeah."

----------

It was still dark when Marcus left the vault and he was glad for it. It was like no time had passed at all between being out _here_ and back down _there_, that his brief stretch back in the vault didn't happen. For a moment he closed his eyes and let the wasteland breeze past by him, making the hairs on his neck stand on end as he felt the coolness somewhat calm his nerves.

The trek back to Megaton didn't take long. Nobody had noticed him leave, and nobody noticed him return and walk straight back to his house. Syndrome had fallen asleep at his post, _still_ waiting for the next guard watch to relief him.

When Marcus and Dogmeat walked into they're house, he found Wadsworth waiting for him.

"Good evening sir."

"Wadsworth."

"Would you prefer if I not inquire about whatever transpired on your recent adventure?"

"Yes, thank you."

"My pleasure. Good night, sir."

He stepped up the steps to his room, not bothering to change out of his stiff power armour, but to instead just collapse on his mattress; physically, emotionally and spiritually drained. He looked up at the ceiling as he felt them slowly close, but his rushing thoughts were still keeping him awake. Dogmeat laid down next to the bed, staring up at his master.

Marcus knew he would never truly get over being in the grey area back at the Pitt and what he had just did to try and make himself forget it. No one outside Vault 101 would believe about what transpired, or blame Marcus for what he did back in that hole – it would be the word of the Wasteland's wandering protector against the people who scorned him, exiled him and disregarded his existence.

Dogmeat whined at Marcus and licked his hand, trying to elicit a response from him.

"Don't worry, Dogmeat.," Marcus said as he continued to stare up at the ceiling, petting the side of his companions face. "We'll be alright."

He smiled.

"I'll be alright."

* * *

Sorry if this last chapter seemed like a rush job. To tell the truth I felt a bit mentally strained trying to write about a good-karma player character who just simply gives up because a baby died on his watch, and he thinks that gives him an excuse to pull a 180 on his former friends.

Well that's it. Thank you to all those who reviewed my first ever drama fic, for those who continue to review it. Your input is much appreciated.

Never Stop Writing.

- GamerJay


End file.
